


Upasaṃhāra

by avani



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/pseuds/avani
Summary: In which Kuntala and Mahishmati continue to pursue a commitment to improved international relations.





	Upasaṃhāra

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of snapshots from the future of [Āmukha](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040435). (You should probably read that first!)

Among the lesser known attributes of Kuntala is a certain compulsion towards competitiveness, and so it is hardly a surprise that upon hearing that Mahishmati has deigned to attend the wedding of their king, the kingdom as a whole resolves to outdo the greeting their own royal family had received months previous. They have already prepared for a display of marital splendor, after all; what’s twice the number of floral garlands and marble statuettes carefully arranged along the road leading to the palace? The herdsmen groom their charges until their coats shine, the farmers ensure their fields are lush and green, and if the Crown Princess appears twice as harried as before, well, she only has one brother to marry off. Speeches are practiced; gifts are prepared; everything, it is assured, will be perfect. 

It is, therefore, quite unfortunate that just as the Mahishmati delegations set foot inside the palace, word comes that the royal herd has escaped from the south pasture, just as all but one of their keepers has been granted a holiday to celebrate the royal wedding. The Crown Princess greets the news with an irritated huff but abandons her guests to the care of the Prime Minister without another word; and of the guests--really only the two princes rather than the royal retinue Kuntala had expected--one steps forward with a sneer, while the other pauses uncertainly for an instant before following the princess. 

Baahubali greets this turn of events with undisguised relief. 

He hadn’t been able to face the idea of seeing the Crown Princess of Kuntala again without some trepidation, not when the sun shines less brightly and victory on the training field holds less satisfaction in her absence—but it is impossible to stand on ceremony with someone when standing instead ankle-deep in mud, chasing down errant cows. 

He steals a minute to study her: Devasena, even with eyes narrowed with frustration and elaborate hairstyle coming undone, has the uncanny ability to grow lovelier every time he sees her. He prays none of this partiality was evident to Mother when he’d proposed the wisdom of attending their new ally’s wedding—but no, she had only laughed and told him if he was so set on gaining experience as a dignitary, to take Bhalla along with him. Surely Mother sees only the diplomatic implications. 

“I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?” says Devasena sourly, and Baahubali laughs. 

“It was a welcome unlike any other,” he assures her solemnly. She tosses her head, the corners of her lips turn up: he counts it a success. 

* 

Devasena's experience with weddings is, admittedly, limited. 

She attended her share of them alongside her brother, of course: more than a few noblemen’s families require the royal family’s presence at their celebrations. But she certainly never had any experience before with exactly how much preparation they seem to require. Frustratingly enough, everyone assumes that she already possesses ideas and opinions about the subject. She gathers it has something to do with being expected to have already planned out her own future wedding at so young an age; but the only thought she has ever given the matter is that it would only happen on some faraway, future day to some faceless groom who, at best, should be gentle and generous enough to let her go her own way. 

So she picks jasmine garlands over lotus blooms entirely at random; chooses yellow for her brother's wedding silks entirely on a whim; and allows the Prime Minister to arrange at least three evenings more of revelry than she thinks a wedding strictly requires. Her head aches, and her eyes burn, and she counts down the days until her delivery. 

At last, though, her brother orders her to leisure, at least for the span of a single afternoon. 

Devasena retreats to the mountains in response, away from any last-minute arrangements that must be made. She brings Baahubali and her bow, and half-expects to be refused the former when she asks. The wilderness of Kuntala is wonderful, all lush and green, but not meant for everyone, and least of all for those accustomed to Mahishmati's more temperate plains. 

But Baahubali agrees with as much delight as though she had invited him on a tour of the heavens themselves. Her cheeks flush with pleasure; her heart rests slightly more lightly in her chest. 

She carries more of her cares with her than she realizes, even to the clearing she and Baahubali find. To his credit, it’s not until Devasena fires her fourth consecutive arrow with undue ferocity that he ventures: “I am certain nothing would dare go wrong during the ceremony.” He smiles. “Not if the alternative is your wrath.” 

The easiest response would be to take offense and retort in kind: the easiest but not the most honest. “It’s not the ceremony that worries me,” she confesses instead. “Sumitra is very gentle,” she continues, “and her brother has a good heart, but…“ 

But Sumitra is entirely unlike Devasena in every way possible, and Kumar Varma won’t look her in the eye, and Devasena has been so sure of her place in her brother’s household until now, when the new additions could so easily throw everything into disarray— 

“They will love you,” Baahubali says confidently. “Who could know you and not love you?” 

She might dismiss that as a mere platitude if it weren’t for the telltale blush spreading across his face. Devasena gathers all her courage and leans forward, too pleased to reply in mere words. Kissing, she is delighted to discover, is even more startlingly agreeable the second time around. When she returns home, Jayavarma tells her with relief that she seems much improved; Devasena, who feels at last able to survive the tensions of the last few days before the wedding will take place, cannot help but agree. 

Later, as she stands across from the princes of Mahishmati and showers rice and blessings alike on her brother and his new wife, at least one detail of her future wedding is far clearer to her now than before: an elopement it must be. She hasn't the patience to endure such preparations once more. 

* 

When Kuntala offers Mahishmati an unexpected bargain for the timber needed to construct the new harbor gate, Mother credits Baahubali's and Bhalla's representation at the wedding twenty months previous. Bhalla struts around afterwards, as pleased with himself as any peacock, but Baahubali is not so certain. 

He is even less certain when the Crown Princess deigns to deliver the agreed-upon goods and collect the payment in person, her brother-in-law accompanying her. Kumar Varma is all bluster and brashness and blind trust in Devasena, and Baahubali cannot help but like him for it. All Kumar Varma lacks, Baahubali judges, is a little more trust in his own worth, and sets about shielding him from the worst of Bhalla's verbal blows. Kumar Varma remains blithely oblivious, but Devasena, on her way to conclude negotiations with Mother, smiles at him gratefully over her brother-in-law's head. 

Baahubali confronts her with his suspicions under the pretext of a walk to show her the harbor Kuntala's largesse will help protect, as though she is not well-acquainted with it already, and in response, Devasena only laughs. "Even were it so," she retorts, "I don't see that you have any reason to complain. Don't you have what you want?" 

He assumes he is meant to think of the plans he brought to his mother more than two years ago, now finally come to fruition, rather than her presence, warm and smiling beside him as the river-breeze whips about them both. He agrees wholeheartedly nevertheless. 

Devasena casts a look behind her at their chaperone, easily lured aside to investigate a fisherman's catch; from the aggrieved look on the other man's face, Baahubali suspects Kumar Varma is once again offering unsolicited advice. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Devasena wince. 

"He's not half so officious at home," she says apologetically. "I think he's still frightened by Mahishmati." 

"He has no reason to be," Baahubali reminds her. "The river would reverse her course before Kumar Varma came to grief here." 

"Be that as it may," Devasena murmurs, looking directly ahead as her fingers find his own, "it is kind of you to protect him. I thank you for it." 

"Why wouldn't I?" Baahubali allows their fingers to intertwine. "He is stronger than he believes. He is cleverer than he allows himself to show others. And you were right--he has a good heart." Just past this turn, he remembers, there is a outcropping of rocks that provides some privacy, but it hardly seems gentlemanly to point it out--or so he thinks until Devasena pointedly tugs their joined hands in that direction. 

Baahubali admits that he forgot to add _conveniently inattentive_ to the list of Kumar Varma's excellent qualities. He suspects, however, that Devasena will forgive him the lapse. 

* 

Devasena admits she has no claim to friendship with the elder prince of Mahishmati--nor, truthfully, has she ever made any effort to cultivate such a thing. 

She is compelled to do so now by the principle of recompense: if Baahubali can treat Kumar Varma with such respect, she supposes she owes it to him to keep from antagonizing his own brother at every opportunity. 

Her noble intentions are complicated somewhat by the fact that Bhallaladeva's opinion of her is at least as low as hers of him; when she finds him in the armory, his only greeting is a grunt and, "Come to inform us how much more fittingly weapons are arranged in Kuntala, Crown Princess?" 

And if pressed, Devasena must admit that their armory back home is organized in a far more systematic fashion, but that hardly seems likely to avoid another quarrel. She holds her tongue.

“Only to find some more arrows,” she explains instead. “Kattappa gave me leave.” 

Bhallaladeva waves a hand dismissively. “Take them if you want. They’re shoddily made, anyway.” 

“The fletchers aren’t to be blamed,” Devasena answers absently, and, when she finds only incomprehension on his face, is startled into saying: “The ship bringing their supplies has been delayed once again by storms—the merchant who bears responsibility explained as much just this morning. Didn’t you hear?” 

He grunts again and turns away. “If you expect that I’ve nothing better to do than listen to every triviality discussed in my mother’s court—“ 

The gall, she thinks indignantly, to have so little care for his people’s concerns, to pay so little attention to anything but the advancement of the army, and to admit as much with such pride! “It’s what will be expected of you once you are King,” she reminds him. 

_If you are King,_ she thinks but does not say. 

To her surprise, however, he considers this instead of dismissing it outright as she expects. “It’ll come with time,” he says, and she wonders if he is trying to convince himself or her. “When I’m older, it will be easier.” 

Privately, Devasena doubts this, but that is his burden, not hers. She studies the arrows once more, but out of the corner of her eye, she can still see Bhallaladeva, head lowered in deep thought, resembling nothing so much as one of their caged and cornered bulls. At last she takes pity on him. 

“When I was a girl, I wanted nothing so much as to learn the use of one of those,” she says, gesturing to one of the maces fixed to the wall opposite: Bhallaladeva’s favored weapon, she knows from Baahubali. “I was told it was impossible, that women lacked the strength to wield it, and all that did was make me want it more. So I set myself to it, against the advice of all my instructors—“ 

“And outdid them all eventually, proving them all spectacularly short-sighted and yourself singularly talented.” Bhallaladeva finishes dryly. “A charming tale, and told with such humility. Thank you, Crown Princess.” 

Devasena ignores him. “ _And_ I found that they were right. I’m certain another woman could wield it—I’m certain I could, given time and training—but it never sat as easily in my hands as a sword or a bow. I realized I could either lose myself in pursuit of a goal I sought solely for stubbornness’ sake or seek out a path that brought me greater satisfaction.” 

He is, she knows, many things but no fool. He does not mistake her meaning. 

Bhallaladeva is silent for a moment before he laughs. “I see how it is. This is intended, I take it, to ensure you’ll be Queen someday?” 

Anger coils deep in her breast. “I will be Queen someday, come what may,” she tells him, head held high and voice even. “I am my brother’s only sister and his heir. To live and die in the service of my people was the path marked out for me before my birth—but if you are so lucky to have another choice, more fool you for not taking it.” 

There, she thinks, taking up the arrows she’s selected, her advice is given and her duty discharged. If he chooses to disregard it, then he can find fault with none but himself. 

For the sake of his own happiness, though, she hopes she does.

* 

The messenger finds Baahubali in his mother’s chambers, and the interruption would not be unwelcome even were it not for the letter he bears. There was a time when Bhalla would attend these conferences as well, however glassy-eyed and growling, but of late he abstains in favor of meeting with the military officers instead, and Mother directs her difficult questions at Baahubali alone. 

“The Regent of Udaygarh’s daughter,” Mother muses aloud. “A great honor for the territory, and a way to show our respect for their way despite our dominion. And I have it she is wise and gentle, if rather quiet.” 

Baahubali considers. Wisdom is always to be valued, and years hence when Mother finally arranges for the wedding to take place, he has faith in Devasena’s ability to draw out even the most retiring of souls. But to expect someone so gentle to face Bhalla in one of his moods is a near-impossible task. He finds he cannot ask it of his future sister-in-law. 

“I think Bhalla would only frighten her,” Baahubali admits apologetically; Mother lets out a faint laugh, half-exasperated, half-amused. 

“I had meant—“ she begins, when the messenger enters with a letter, only recently arrived, from the kingdom of Kuntala. 

“I hope it isn’t bad news,” Mother says blandly as Baahubali opens it. He appreciates the pretense that she, the messenger who still stands at the door, King Jayavarma, and the entire diplomatic corps that travel between Kuntala and Mahishmati haven’t all already perused it. They are welcome to do so; the correspondence between him and Devasena is notoriously dull, not helped by the fact that Devasena’s creativity has flagged enough to cause her to discuss crop rotation for the last three letters preceding. 

He excuses himself to read his letter in the privacy of his own rooms. 

The body of the letter, captured in a scribe’s flowing script, holds very little interest for him. Instead he peers at the greeting that begins it: should it read _To the Prince of Mahishmati, innumerable greetings_ he will need to find his pen to mark out every fourth character; should it read _all customary greetings_ , he will need to open his copy of the _Arthashastra_ and replace every other word found in the letter with that found on the corresponding page in his book. 

But instead he finds: _To Prince Baahubali, warmest greetings_ ; with a smile, he holds the letter above the oil-lamp by his bed until Devasena’s cramped, untidy handwriting appears between the scribe’s smoothly formed words.

Unlikely though it seems, the actual contents of their correspondence is frequently as innocent as the words that conceal them; more often than not, they consists of nothing more than brief news, stray observations, and occasional requests for advice. This letter is no exception: Devasena has commissioned a new bow, awaits the harvest so as to have something to occupy her time, and wonders how best to judge the case of a miller found cheating his customers who claims the true culprit is his half-grown son rather than himself. To punish an innocent man for the faults of his son would be regrettable; but should the miller have falsely indicted his own child in hopes of exploiting the more tolerant punishments allotted to minors, his crime is unforgivable. 

A more unsentimental conversation he can scarcely imagine; but it is enough to keep this between them, secret and sacred: a reminder that they are never far from each other's thoughts. 

She will expect a reply to be sent by morning: he picks up his pen and writes long into the night. 

He signs his reply as he always does: _Yours_. 

*

The Queen Mother's visit is entirely unexpected.

In part this is because rumor states that Sivagami Devi has not stepped outside the boundaries of Mahishmati since early childhood; in part this is because she and her entourage arrive with only a week's warning. Kuntala is taken aback, and consequently represents itself just as it is, without any of the elaborate formalities it might have otherwise displayed. So much the better, the servants and spies have it; such authenticity meets with the Queen Mother's approval. 

The morning following her arrival, the Queen Mother asks to meet alone with the Crown Princess. 

Devasena is fairly confident that she has no cause for fear: her childhood terror of Mahishmati's imperiousness has faded, leaving behind only a lingering irritation, but even a child would be wise enough to be wary of Sivagami. By now, Devasena knows the Queen Mother well enough to respect her strength and acuity and be respected in return; she is just not sure that she likes, or, for that matter, trusts the matriarch of Mahishmati. 

Sivagami greets her with courtesy when she enters, however; and once both of them are seated, adds without further ado: "You must wonder why I have called you here." 

Devasena can only nod in response.

"You are young," says Sivagami by way of explanation. "But soon you shall learn that to rule requires an awareness not only of your kingdom's present, but of its future." 

Anxiety prickles down Devasena's neck. "I am confident your noble country need not have any concerns regarding that," she offers: an uninspired statement, but the safest possible to choose. 

Sivagami studies her closely. "Are you?" Then, apparently satisfied, she continues: "Let me tell you, Crown Princess, what I see before me: a young woman who has blinded my younger son to the charms of any other woman on this earth. A giver of such startlingly apt advice that my elder son appears to have renounced all his ambitions to the throne. A foreign princess that my own people already recognize and love with undue fervor. Any of these alone might be cause for concern, Devasena: all three together could be considered a calamity."

Devasena squares her shoulders, but before she can say anything in her defense, Sivagami adds airily: "Unless I can turn this threat into the asset I have come to believe she is meant to be." 

The implication of the Queen Mother's words is not lost on Devasena. She catches her breath. "You must understand that it has never been my intent to rule in Mahishmati," she says, remembering Bhallaladeva's accusation so long ago. "I never sought such a thing." 

"We none of us did," says Sivagami, dismissing this with a shrug. "Mahishmati chooses her own, not the other way around." 

Honesty propels her onwards. "Kuntala is known to me, but I have no knowledge of how to govern an empire." 

"You have as much right to inherit my wisdom as do my sons, Crown Princess." 

If by that she means she intends Devasena to parrot her own opinions: "I can only offer my own judgment, never those that anyone else tries to make for me." 

"As should any Queen," is the unconcerned response. 

"And," Devasena adds, finding this most important of all to mention, "I will always be insolent." 

At that, the Queen Mother smiles at last. "So much the better," she replies, "to suit Sivagami's daughter-in-law." 

* 

The rustle of the curtains wakes him; his breaths slow to match the sound of soft footfalls. He knows their rhythm, though, even before he smells ashoka blossoms and the beeswax used to stiffen bowstrings: he smiles. 

When he opens his eyes, she is there, leaning over him. There is just enough moonlight to make out the glint of her dark eyes; her hair falls over her shoulder to pool on his pillow. She is dressed, though, unmistakably for travel, strange and unexpected enough to make him start to sit up and say, “Dev—“ 

“Shh.” She presses a finger to his lips. He obeys, but allows himself a pointed gaze at her attire.

By way of explanation, all she offers is: "Do you not remember what your mother said?" 

Mother says many things. He's not sure which of them she means him to think of. Devasena, during her increasingly frequent visits to Mahishmati, listens to everything Mother says as intently as he does, despite how often she disagrees; it might be anything from a stray comment over breakfast to one of the rulings she made in court. 

Devasena huffs in frustration. "'It is imperative that a future king must walk among his people before he ascends the throne,'" she quotes. "'Like a idol taken on procession, he must see how others live and be seen by them in return.'" 

He might have known Devasena would appreciate such a sentiment, surprisingly similar to the Kuntalan philosophy towards ruling. What he does not know is what, if anything, this has to do with their current circumstances. 

"Wise words," he says. "What of them?" 

Devasena leans even closer. "Don't tell me the devoted Amarendra Baahubali would dare disregard an order from his mother?" 

So that is what she intends. "I hardly think she meant now!" he protests, trying--and failing--not to laugh. 

"If not now, then when?" Devasena demands, sitting back once more. "A crowned king can hardly leave the cares of his country behind to see the world and learn from his experiences. If you mean to go, it must be before responsibility ensnares you." 

Baahubali wishes it wasn't always so difficult to argue with her. "Still," he manages to reply, "there are better times to leave than the middle of the night!" 

"Once a noble action has come to mind, one should waste no time in carrying it out," she recites piously. "Besides, you can't imagine my brother or the Queen Mother would allow us to travel without at least a regiment of soldiers as escort. What could we see then?" 

He can hear the whickering of two horses below the window; he knows there must be a letter left behind in her rooms explaining their whereabouts. "Devasena--" 

Her smile widens. "Never tell me I'll have to take you prisoner to ensure you'll come along." 

Amusement wells up once more. "Prisoner?" 

"Do you doubt I could do it? Besides, then you would hardly need to worry. No one could fault you for obeying your captor's demands." 

"Which are?" He raises his eyebrows at her; in return he's gratified to find one of her rare blushes. 

"Which are to stop being a stubborn fool, and come with me." 

He considers carefully. The harvest is brought in; the traders' councils complete for the year. The moon hangs full and low, blessing their endeavor. They have all the time in the world. 

"What can I do," he concedes, "but obey?" 

They leave together.

**Author's Note:**

> upasaṃhāra: Sanskrit, "conclusion, end, epilogue."
> 
>  
> 
> Sincere apologies to all expecting plot, not....ridiculous fluff. But, because it's not an avani fic (no matter how ridiculously anachronistic) without endnotes:
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> *Ages are intentionally vague here, because I imagine there were a few more visits that we don't see. But for those who are curious about authorial intent, Jayavarma's wedding is at the same time I imagine in the "real" timeline, when Devasena is around 13, making Amarendra 14-15. Similarly, the very last section has them approximately 18/20 in my mind, well before anyone seems to expect them to take up the responsibilities of rule and allowing them to effectively go backpacking around ancient India. 
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> *Bhalla's redirection of his ambitions towards the commander-in-chief position may seem hasty, but one of the sub themes of this universe was that Amarendra, Devasena, and Bhalla meeting earlier actually allows them all to improve, and I felt Devasena in particular with her clear eye for character would be the best candidate to help him reach that decision. Thanks to the usual suspects in helping me discuss/word this out properly (You know who you are :D) 
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> * With regards to the codes: the _Arthashastra_ is of course the master-work of Chanakya, the Indian expert on spies and secret languages (though the work itself covers far more subjects than that).I was unable to find whether or not invisible ink was commonly used in ancient India, but there are so many natural invisible inks out there that I assume certainly they would have figured it out. 
> 
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> *Devasena having awful handwriting is not at all canon, but my explanation as to why she has a scribe dictate her letter to Sivagami in canon instead of writing it herself (other than it looking better on screen, of course.)
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> *Sivagami's comments on her daughter-in-law and on the need for future kings to see the world are very, very loosely paraphrased from canon, of course. 
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> * Finally, for those who'd prefer another take on what came next after "Āmukha," I offer [this snippet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266809/chapters/27364221). I admit, I'm curious to see which one people will prefer!


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